The usual disclaimers here. These characters aren’t mine. I just took them out to play for a little while.

Let Love Take Care Of The Rest

by

Jan

Max settled into the theater seat and propped his foot on the row in front of him. He let go a satisfied sigh. Why couldn’t all his plays go this well? Rehearsals were moving along splendidly, and all the other production details seemed to be falling into place. He was especially impressed with the casting. He made a mental note to say something to Teresa, the casting director. This particular group of young actors was among the best he’d ever worked with. They were extremely talented, bringing the script to life in a way that matched his vision perfectly. Oh, there were a couple of them who lacked a little professionalism—late a few times to rehearsal, pulling antics backstage, boasting a little too loudly about their late-night partying—but once they got on stage, they were superb, and Max couldn’t have been more pleased.

There was only one small concern that kept everything from being perfect. It was one of the young actors, Mark—something. Max couldn’t think of his last name. He was playing a small but pivotal role, and he was excellent, but something about him rubbed Max the wrong way. He was cocky, to be sure. Max had spoken to him yesterday about being late for rehearsal. Instead of an apology or "It won’t happen again, Mr. Sheffield," he had rolled his eyes and mumbled a "whatever." What are we, in seventh grade here? It wasn’t serious enough to even consider firing him since bringing another actor in to replace him would just put them behind schedule. "Actors!" Max said out loud. He decided he would have to keep a close eye on him.

Actually, this minor irritation at the theater served as a welcome relief. It gave Max something to occupy his mind besides her—Miss Fine. No, Fran. He knew their relationship had taken a serious turn lately. He thought about her all the time. He knew how much he hated it when she went out with other men—how it made him so jealous he couldn’t think straight. It sent him into a panic that she might find someone else and he would lose her forever. He also knew that, in spite of his deep-seated guilt over his beautiful Sara, he had fallen deeply in love with her.

The director called for a break, and Max got up to go refresh his coffee. After filling his mug with the steaming liquid, he stepped into the alley outside the stage door to get some fresh air and to think. Taking a sip of his coffee, he said aloud, "Ok, ok, I love her. I am totally and completely in love with her. There—I said it!" He took a deep breath. He had finally admitted it to himself. "Well, that only took five years," he thought, "and that was the easy part."

Now, what was he going to do about it? Should he tell her how he felt? What if she didn’t feel the same way? Surely she did, or else why would she have gotten so upset when he took back the thing? But she had never really come out and told him her feelings. She flirted with him, teased him, responded to his kisses, but was it real love or was she just playing games?

And if she really did love him, would it be enough to overcome their differences? Their class, their upbringing, their backgrounds were just about as far apart as they could get. And they disagreed over almost everything, especially when it came to the children.

She was fiery and exciting, always gobbling up life. He was stuffy and repressed, resisting nearly everything. What if she got bored with him? And what if it just didn’t work out, like all of Miss Fine’s other relationships? The children would be devastated. Hell, he would be devastated. Oh, God, he was driving himself insane with the what-ifs.

How about just listing the positives? "Let’s see," he said to himself. "Number one, I’m in love with her. Number two, the children adore her and she adores them. Number three, I’m in love with her. Didn’t I just say that?"

Max loved so many things about her. He loved the way she got so excited over things, the way she met life head-on, the way she had brought joy and laughter back into his life after Sara died. And he loved those gorgeous dark, sparkling eyes and, oh my God, that smile. He felt his heart begin to race a little just thinking about her beautiful smile.

At that moment, he heard the creak of the stage door opening accompanied by an unmistakable voice. "Mr. Sheffield, are you out here?"

"Miss Fine, what are you doing here?" he asked. Fran came through the door and joined him in the alley.

"Well, I needed to ask you something. Maggie and I were out shopping, and she wanted to stop for lunch at that little café around the corner, so I thought I would just drop by and ask you."

Embarrassed that she had caught him engaged in such personal thoughts about her, Max stammered, "What could you possibly need to ask me that can’t wait until I get home? I’m very busy here, you know."

Fran looked around. "Yeah, you look swamped. Listen, one of Gracie’s friends invited her to spend the weekend at their family’s beach house. They need to pick her up this afternoon before you get home. I had to check with you first because I thought you said something about some sort of a family thing this weekend, but I couldn’t remember for sure."

"Oh, that. No, that’s next weekend. I‘m planning to take the children to the new art exhibit at the Whitney. Tell Gracie she may go with her friend."

"Ok, she’ll be happy to hear that." Fran walked over and smiled up at him. "So, Mr. Sheffield, Gracie will be gone all weekend and Maggie is going to be busy with that sorority thing. I heard Brighton talking to some friends about a movie marathon. Sounds like that leaves things sorta open for you and me, huh?" She reached up and plucked some imaginary lint from his shoulder and then let her hand slide sensuously down his arm.

Max drew in his breath at her touch. Did she have any idea what she did to him? A slow smile spread across his face. "Yes, Miss Fine, it sounds as though you and I might have some time to enjoy each other’s company." He felt a warmth rise up in him. "How about dinner and maybe a little dancing tomorrow night?"

"Ooh, Mr. Sheffield. I’ll have to check my calendar, but I think I might be able to squeeze you in." She leaned into him as their eyes locked on each other. He bent his head slowly toward her as she reached up to meet him. He felt his heart pounding as his lips captured hers and he felt her arms go around his neck. He slid his arms around her waist and drew her tightly to him. His kiss became more demanding, and she responded wholeheartedly.

The stage door creaked open again. "Mr. Sheff—oh, excuse me, Mr. Sheffield." The stagehand cleared his throat and averted his eyes as Fran and Max pulled apart.

Max kept one arm around her waist as he said, "Yes, David, what is it?"

"The director’s calling the actors back to the stage."

"Thank you." After the door shut, Max turned back to Fran. He gave her one more sweet, tender kiss and said, "I’m sorry, Miss Fine. Duty calls. May we continue this later?"

"Mmm—you can count on it." She kissed him again.

Fran and Max stepped back into the darkened theater, and Fran began looking around for Maggie. She could hear the director out front calling, "Places, everyone!" followed by, "Damn it! Who are we waiting on?"

"Guess," said one of the other actors.

"Mark!" barked the director. "Places!" Max immediately felt his irritation rise up as he began scanning the backstage area for the irresponsible young actor.

Fran and Max spotted the objects of their searches simultaneously. Maggie and Mark were both standing at the snack table nibbling on crackers and engrossed in conversation. Mark had just said something that made Maggie toss her head back in laughter.

"Mark!" yelled the director again.

"Gotta go! Can I call you?" Mark smiled charmingly.

"Sure," replied Maggie. Mark darted off to the front of the stage just as Fran arrived at the snack table.

"So, who was that?" asked Fran.

"His name is Mark, and he asked if he could call me."

"What’d you say?"

"I told him yes. Fran, did you see how cute he was?"

"I saw, sweetie." Fran turned and started heading toward the front door of the theater. "Now, where should we shop for those new shoes?"

Meanwhile, Max slid back into his seat fuming. It was enough to have to put up with Mark’s antics at the theater, but there was no way he would tolerate them around his family. Max would have to tell Maggie to stay away from this Mark.

*******************

Max came through the front door and hung his coat in the closet. Niles appeared immediately. "How was your day at the theater, sir?"

"Just fine, Niles. Where is everyone?" Max picked up the mail from the foyer table and began glancing through it.

"Well, Miss Grace left several hours ago for her weekend at the beach with Tiffany’s family. Master Brighton is at Tommy Altman’s house—something about a new video game. Miss Margaret is in her room getting her things together to spend the night with Whitney Alderson. And Miss Fine is getting ready to go over to Miss Toriello’s. I think that covers everyone, sir."

Max put down the mail and headed toward his office. "Please tell Margaret I need to speak with her."

"Yes, sir."

Max went into his office and started sorting through a stack of paperwork. He had a lot of work to get done if he was going to clear his schedule enough to take Miss Fine out tomorrow night. Mmm—going out with Miss Fine. His thoughts drifted to her. He wondered what she would be wearing. He always loved that moment when she appeared at the top of the stairs and he looked up only to have his breath leave his body and his jaw drop to the floor. No matter what dress she wore, he knew she would look absolutely smashing. He was thinking that he would take her to the Rainbow Room. He knew how much she loved that place, and he loved making her happy. Besides, it was such a romantic place, and he felt like being very romantic with her. Just then, Maggie came in and interrupted his thoughts. "What is it, Daddy?" she asked.

Max was startled back to reality. "Oh, Margaret, I need to talk to you about that young man you met at the theater today." He took off his glasses and looked seriously at his oldest daughter.

"You mean Mark?"

"Yes. Mark. I saw the two of you getting quite chummy. I hope you don’t have any ideas about going out with him. He’s not the kind of young man I want you dating."

"But, Daddy, he seems really nice."

Max stood up and came around his desk. "I mean it, Margaret. I don’t like his attitude, and I don’t want you seeing him. If he calls, tell him—well, I don’t care what you tell him, just don’t go out with him. Understood?" He looked at her sternly.

Maggie’s eyes narrowed in defiance. "Daddy, I think I’m old enough to choose who I go out with. Besides, he already called to ask me out for tomorrow night and I said yes."

"I thought you had some sorority function this weekend."

"I do, but it should be over by 5:00, so Mark and I made plans for tomorrow night."

"Well, you’ll just have to call him back and cancel. You’re not going out with him, and that’s final." Max walked back around his desk, sat down, and picked up some papers, a sure sign that the conversation was over.

"I can’t believe this," Maggie mumbled under her breath as she turned to leave her father’s office.

Without looking up, Max said, "I would tread very lightly, young lady, or you won’t be going anywhere for the next month!"

Maggie stormed up the stairs in a fury. What was she going to tell Mark? He would think she was some kind of child that her father dictated who she could and couldn’t go out with. Mark was so cute and seemed really interested in her. She really wanted to go out with him, but she couldn’t see any way to change her dad’s mind. Suddenly, she had an idea. Fran! Fran could talk her dad into just about anything.

Maggie knocked on Fran’s bedroom door. "Fran, can I come in?"

"Sure, sweetie."

Maggie burst through the door with, "Fran, you gotta help me!"

"Calm down, sweetie. What is it?"

"You know that really cute guy that I met at the theater today? Well, he asked me out for tomorrow night."

"Ooh," squealed Fran, hugging Maggie. "Honey, that’s great!"

"It’s not so great. Dad won’t let me go. He’s being such an ogre."

"Well, what do you want me—oh, no, Maggie. Don’t ask me to cross your father right now. Things are going really well between us, and I don’t want to mess them up."

"Please, Fran. Mark is so cute and funny—I really want to go out with him. Dad is so unreasonable sometimes."

"What did your dad say about this guy?"

"He said he didn’t like his attitude. You know how dad is about actors."

"Maggie, you don’t even know this guy that well. Is he really worth fighting with your dad over?"

"How am I going to know that until I go out with him?"

"Oy," Fran sighed. Maggie certainly had a point. She had come to Fran with a problem, and it was her job to take care of it. No matter what was or wasn’t happening between her and Mr. Sheffield, Fran was first and foremost the nanny.

"I don’t suppose you’d consider just doing as your father says?" asked Fran.

"Come on, Fran. You’re kidding, right?"

Surely Fran was up to the challenge. She’d handled hundreds of situations like this before. How many times in the past had Max pulled his over-protective father routine and Fran had managed to figure out a way to manipulate things so that Maggie got what she wanted without him finding out or getting mad about it? Fran thought for a minute. Then she got a twinkle in her eye, and Maggie knew instantly that Fran had come up with a brilliant way for her to see Mark without openly defying her father.

"What exactly did your father tell you?" Fran asked, the wheels obviously turning in her head.

"He said to cancel my date with him for tomorrow night. He told me I couldn’t go out with him."

"Well—he said you couldn’t go out with him. But he didn’t say you couldn’t run into him somewhere. What’s the name of that jazz club where a lot of the young actors hang out? What if you just showed up there tomorrow night, and Mark just happened to be there too? That way, you can get to know him better without going against your father. And if he turns out to be a really nice guy and your father has misjudged him, then you can go to your dad and explain things."

"Oh, Fran, you’re a goddess! I love you!"

"I love you more!" Fran squealed as she gave her eldest a quick hug. Maggie scooted out the door with a huge smile on her face.

Just then, Fran’s cell phone rang. It was Val. "Yeah, Val, I’m running a few minutes late. I had to do my nanny schtick, but it’s all taken care of now. Maggie’s happy, and I didn’t even have to have a big blow-out with Mr. Sheffield. Yeah, I’m on my way." She hung up as she checked herself in the mirror, giving herself a satisfied smile. Damn, she was good at this stuff.

*****************

Maxwell’s musings about what Fran would be wearing hadn’t come close to the reality. Standing there watching her come down the stairs, he couldn’t have recalled his own name if his life depended on it. Her hair was swept up softly with a few curls cascading down. The shimmery sapphire blue fabric of her dress clung to every alluring curve and the neckline was cut so low Maxwell wondered what in the hell was holding it up. "Oh, yeah—those," he thought, blushing deeply.

"Mr. Sheffield, are you ok?" Fran asked as she stepped down the last step. He could do nothing more than stare. "Mr. Sheffield?" Inside, Fran was congratulating herself. She really loved doing this to him.

Finally, he swallowed hard and croaked out, "Absolutely breathtaking." She flashed him that million-dollar smile and turned around so he could put her wrap around her shoulders. He paused for just one extra second to inhale her perfume deeply before offering her his arm. "Shall we?" he stammered, and they headed out the door.

In the limo, he couldn’t help but continue to stare as she chatted light-heartedly about the city sights. He had been thinking all day that this might just be the night that he finally confessed what he had been feeling for so long now. He had been wondering if an opportunity might present itself, if the timing would be right, if he would at last be able to overcome his fears and just tell her the three precious words he had been holding back. At that moment, he had never been more sure of anything in his life. Looking at her beside him and feeling her delicate hand in his, he wondered if anything in the world could stop him from saying them tonight. In fact, with what he was feeling for her right now, those three little words seemed pitifully inadequate.

The limo pulled up in front of the building where the Rainbow Room was perched and they got out. The ride up the elevator was punctuated with warm, tender smiles as Max took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips. They stepped out into the restaurant, and Fran slipped her arm through Max’s as the maitre d’ led them to their table. When they were seated, Max ordered a bottle of champagne in hopes that it would turn out to be a night of celebration.

After an exquisite lobster dinner and pleasant conversation, Max waited rather impatiently for Fran to finish her dessert. He wanted to dance with her. He couldn’t wait to hold her in his arms and feel her body against his.

Fran could tell that Max was a bit jumpy. In fact, he’d been rather beside himself all evening. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to put him through just a wee bit of torture. She made a big production out of slowly putting the last bite of cheesecake into her mouth, moaning in delight, and sensuously withdrawing her fork. "Mmm-this is so-o-o delicious! Maybe I’ll have another piece. . ." My God, she was killing him.

Just then, the band started playing, and Max breathed a thankful sigh. "Please, Miss Fine, I am absolutely dying to hold you in my arms. Would you give me the honor of this dance?"

"Well, since you put it that way, I guess having your arms around me is better than cheesecake anytime." She gave him a coy little smile as he stood and extended his hand to her.

He led her to the dance floor where he gathered her to him as they began to move to the rhythm. Max tightened his arm around her. It seemed as though he couldn’t get her close enough. They held each other’s gaze, and he felt himself drowning in those sparkling chocolate pools. At that moment, there were no doubts, no questions, no what-ifs. Only the pure and powerful love that flowed from his heart and enveloped her.

A sudden tap on his shoulder brought Max out of his haze. "I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, Mr. Sheffield," said the manager of the restaurant, "but there’s a phone call for you. The caller says it’s quite urgent."

Max cleared his throat. "It had damned well better be," he said exasperated. He and Fran followed the manager to the front of the restaurant where he was handed a telephone. "Yes? This is Maxwell Sheffield." Fran watched as all of the color drained out of Max’s face. "Oh, my God," was all he could manage before he dropped the receiver.

"Mr. Sheffield?" said Fran, starting to panic. "What is it?"

"Margaret’s been in a car accident. She’s been taken by ambulance to St. Paul’s." Then he turned and barked out, "Bring my limo around immediately!"

******************

Max burst through the emergency room doors and literally ran to the nurses’ station. "I’m Maxwell Sheffield. Where is my daughter?"

"She’s right through those doors," the nurse responded. "They’re getting her ready for surgery. I have some consent forms for you to sign."

"I’ll sign them later. I want to see her now." He headed in the direction the nurse had pointed.

Fran grabbed his arm and spun him around. "Mr. Sheffield, wait a minute. You can’t go in there like that." He looked at her, and Fran had never seen such panic in a pair of eyes.

"Miss Fine, let go of me. I have to get in there and see Sara."

Sara? The word pierced Fran’s heart. "Mr. Sheffield, that’s Maggie in there. And you can’t go in there looking like that. You’ll scare her. You’ve got to pull yourself together."

He glared at her and yanked his arm from her grasp. He shoved his way through the door with Fran right behind him. When they reached Maggie’s bedside, Fran gasped at the sight of her. The right side of her face was a bruised and mangled mess, and her right arm hung limply at an odd angle. There was blood all over the sheets. Max leaned over her and gently smoothed back her hair. "Margaret, sweetheart, I’m right here. Everything’s going to be fine."

Maggie turned her head and looked directly into her father’s face. "Daddy, I’m sorry," she mouthed.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. Don’t worry about anything except getting better. I’ll be right here the whole time."

Fran picked up Maggie’s left hand and squeezed it gently, bringing it up to hold against her heart. Maggie turned and looked at Fran. A million unspoken thoughts passed between them. "Sweetie, it’s gonna be ok. We love you," Fran told her soothingly.

Just then, the resident said, "Ok, let’s roll," and Max and Fran were left to stare after the group that surrounded Maggie’s bed as they wheeled her to surgery. Fran looked over at Max and watched him bury his face in his hands. His shoulders heaved as he let go a flood of tears. She walked over and wrapped her arms around him. He buried his face in her hair and drew her to him, holding on to her in desperation. They stood that way until his sobbing subsided.

He finally lifted his head and wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Oh, God!" he said. "I can’t go through this again."

"Mr. Sheffield, listen to me." She took his head in both her hands and made him look at her. "You’re not going through it again. It’s not the same as with Sara."

"But it feels the same."

"No, it’s different this time. Maggie’s going to be fine. And this time, I’m here with you."

Max took a huge, deep breath. "Thank God for that."

"Come on," Fran said gently. "Let’s go talk to the doctor and find out what we’re dealing with." She took his hand in hers and led him out into the hall.

A nurse was waiting for them with a clipboard full of papers and a pen. Max scribbled blindly wherever the nurse pointed. Then they saw a tall, young doctor in green scrubs approaching them. "Mr. Sheffield? I’m Dr. Jensen." He spoke calmly and with assurance. "We’ve turned your daughter over to the surgical team. Her right arm is broken—they’ll set it upstairs. Her head CT came out normal—just scrapes and contusions. But, she has some rather serious internal injuries, which is why we hurried her into surgery."

"Doctor, is she going to--?" Max couldn’t finish the question.

"We have every reason to be hopeful that the surgery will be successful. Unless they run into something unexpected, she has a chance for a full recovery. She may need some physical therapy on that arm, but we can talk about that later. She’ll be in surgery for at least the next three to four hours. Why don’t you get some coffee and try to relax. She’s in good hands now."

Fran spoke up. "Dr. Jensen, do you know what happened? Was anyone else hurt in the accident?"

"All I know is that she was a passenger in a car that ran a stop sign. Maggie took the brunt of the impact. The driver had only minor cuts and bruises. I believe he’s already been treated and released. The driver of the other car was taken to another hospital, so I don’t know anything about her injuries."

"Who is this ‘he,’ Doctor?" Max wanted to know.

"I don’t know the young man’s name. You can check at the nurses’ station."

Max stood with a stunned look on his face. As the doctor walked away, Fran thanked him and then turned to Max. "Let’s go call home and let Niles know what’s going on. Then we’ll find you that cup of coffee."

Fran and Max walked down the hall to the waiting area. Max felt as though he was reliving a nightmare. The sights, the smells—all an eerie reminder of that horrific night ten years ago. Then, he heard a tentative voice. "Mr. Sheffield? Is Maggie ok?" Max looked blankly at the pretty young woman talking to him, but he couldn’t manage a response.

Fran said, "Mr. Sheffield, this is Maggie’s friend Whitney." Then turning to the girl, she said, "Thank God you weren’t in the car with her." Fran gave her a hug, and Whitney collapsed into tears.

"Is Maggie going to be all right?" she choked out.

Finally, Max spoke up. "They’ve taken her to surgery. She has some serious injuries. We won’t know anything for several hours, but the doctor is optimistic."

Fran said, "Come on. Let’s all go over here and sit down." She led them over to a soft couch in a quiet corner of the waiting room. "Whitney, do you know what happened?"

Whitney took a deep breath. "Well, a bunch of us went out to eat, and then we started talking about going out to a club. We had been working so hard all day on the sorority fundraiser, we thought we deserved a fun night out. Maggie insisted that we go to Davey’s, this jazz club on 46^th. So we all piled into my car and went down there. We weren’t there five minutes when this guy comes up and starts talking to Maggie. He was really cute and seemed nice. Then somebody said they’d heard about a really cool band that was playing over at Cosmo’s, so we decided to go hear them. This guy offered to give Maggie a ride, and since my car had been so crowded, she said ok. I mean, it was only a few blocks away, so we didn’t think it was any big deal."

She stopped for a minute and wiped a tear from her eye. "I was following them. I saw the stop sign, but I guess Mark didn’t, because he just went right on through it. This other car was coming up on the right and just plowed into them. I called 911 on my cell phone and the ambulance was there in just a few minutes. Then--"

"Wait a minute! Did you say, ‘Mark’?" Max interrupted.

"Yeah, Mark."

"What’s his last name?"

"I don’t know. Maggie said he was an actor."

"Damn it!" Max jumped up and starting pacing back and forth, flailing his arms. "Now I know why she apologized to me in there. I expressly forbid her to see that boy! I can’t believe she would defy me like this—I made myself perfectly clear. What in the hell would have possessed her to--" Max stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the look of horror on Fran’s face, and he knew immediately the answer to his question. Her hand was clutching her throat, and her eyes, huge and round, were filled with tears.

With every ounce of control he could possibly muster and without taking his eyes off Fran, Max said, "Whitney, would you excuse us please?" Stunned, Whitney got up and silently slipped out of the waiting area.

His jaw set in steel, Max stood over Fran and stated in an icy voice, "You were right, Miss Fine. It is different this time. This time, you are here. In fact, you are the reason we are here."

****************

It was past noon on Sunday when Fran finally got home and practically crawled up the stairs to her room. She slipped off the jeans that Niles had brought for her to change into the night before, but she kept on the sweatshirt and just collapsed into bed. She had been up for well over twenty-four hours, her body on autopilot for the last twelve. She now understood the meaning of sheer exhaustion, but she knew there was no way sleep would come.

As she pulled the covers up to her chin, she spoke her prayer of gratitude aloud. "Thank you, God, for bringing Maggie through the surgery." She recalled the overwhelming sense of relief she had felt when the surgeon had come to tell them that everything had gone well. The doctors had been able to stop the internal bleeding and repair the damage. Maggie was now faced with a difficult road to recovery and healing. But she was a young, healthy girl, and her prognosis was excellent.

Fran closed her eyes, but they shot open again quickly when she envisioned Mr. Sheffield standing over her in the hospital waiting room. The venomous look in his eyes and the cold tone in his voice were indelibly printed in her brain.

But she didn’t need to recall Mr. Sheffield’s accusations to experience an overwhelming sense of remorse. She knew in her heart of hearts that she was the one to blame. As she lay there, her mind began replaying all the times over the last five years that she had battled with Mr. Sheffield over Maggie. It had started on her very first weekend as their nanny when he had gone ballistic over catching Maggie on the terrace with Eddie, the kissing waiter. Fran had warned him then that he wouldn’t be able to dip Maggie in bronze like the rest of his collectibles. She was going to grow up, and she would need somebody to help her. Fran was convinced at the time that she was the one to provide that help and guidance. Now, she wondered how she could have been so wrong.

Fran had always followed her instincts, gone with her gut, in the conflicts between Maggie and Mr. Sheffield. And all this time she thought she had been doing what was best for them. But now she realized that what she had really been doing was creating a belief in Maggie that her dad was always unreasonable and that it was always all right to find a way around him. Fran’s careless attitude toward Mr. Sheffield’s conservative parenting just served to set Maggie up. Fran thought to herself that they were all lucky that it hadn’t backfired before now.

As giant sobs began racking her body and a flood of tears ran down her face, Fran asked herself how in the world she would ever make up for what she had done. How does one apologize for completely screwing up the relationship between a father and his daughter? Although she knew she had been a wonderful nanny to those three kids in many other ways, this had done irreparable damage and overshadowed the good she had accomplished. There was much more to it than just yesterday’s horrendous events. It was five long years of teaching Maggie the wrong values about trusting her father’s judgment and respecting him as a parent.

And she was doing the same with the other two. Brighton had become used to playing her and Mr. Sheffield against each other to get what he wanted. And he was good at it. And Gracie hardly ever went to her father for anything. She knew Fran for the soft touch that she was. It was time to face the truth—Fran hadn’t been helping them, she’d been hurting them and their relationship with their father.

She could see no way to make up for the harm she had done. How could Mr. Sheffield ever trust her again when it came to making decisions about the children? How could she ever trust herself again as a nanny to the three kids she loved more than life itself? There was only one answer to her questions, and as the realization of it hit her, a scream that could only be described as primal tore from her throat.

*****************

Fran pushed open the door to Maggie’s hospital room and poked her head in. She was so relieved to see Maggie sitting up and sipping some juice. It had only been a few days since her surgery, and she had made so much progress already. Fran pasted a smile on her face.

"Hi, sweetie! You’re looking so much better. How are you feeling?"

Maggie spoke with a weak voice. "Like I got hit by a car. I’m sore all over and my head is killing me." The smile disappeared from Fran’s face as she came to sit next to Maggie’s bed. Maggie immediately regretted complaining. "No, really, I’m doing ok—considering. I feel a little bit better every day. Have you seen Mark?"

"Yes, he came by the house and spoke with your father. He apologized for the accident."

"How did dad take it?"

"Well, you know your father. He fired him from the play and threw him out of the house. He threatened legal action if he didn’t stay away from you."

"I wondered why he hadn’t been here to see me."

There was a heavy pause. Then, Fran and Maggie spoke at the same time. "I’m so sorry," they both said at once.

"Fran, I’m sorry I betrayed your trust in me. I knew better than to get into that car with him."

"Maggie, I’m sorry I made you think it was all right to go against your father. He knew Mark was irresponsible, and he had warned you. I shouldn’t have encouraged you otherwise."

"Fran, it wasn’t your fault. You’ve been teaching me manipulate Dad since I was fourteen. It was no different this time."

Fran winced at Maggie’s statement. "Yes, it was different this time. This time, it almost got you killed. And that was my fault. I’m sorry." Fran reached over and gave Maggie’s arm a gentle squeeze.

"Fran, I’m the one who got into that car."

"And I’m the one who put you into that situation. Maggie, all those years of teaching you to manipulate your father to get your way—I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry. I promise it will never happen again."

There was an uncomfortable silence between them. Each one’s guilt was so heavy that it wouldn’t allow for the possibility of placing blame on the other.

Maggie saw the tears threatening to spill down Fran’s cheeks and knew it was time to change the subject. "So, how’s everyone at home? Where’s Dad?"

Fran took a deep breath and attempted a weak smile. "Everyone’s doing fine. Niles is bringing Brighton and Gracie by to see you after school today. Your dad had a few things to take care of at the theater this morning. He’ll be here in a little while."

They chatted for a few more minutes, and then Fran finally said, "Well, I promised Yetta I would take her shopping this morning. I’ll come back and see you later this afternoon." Fran stood up and gave Maggie a kiss on the cheek.

Although Fran was trying to appear cheerful, Maggie could read the look of remorse in her eyes. "Fran, stop blaming yourself. I’m an adult now, and it was my decision to accept that ride. It was Mark’s decision to pay more attention to me than to his driving. It wasn’t your fault."

Fran managed a false smile as she turned to leave the room. When she got to the door, it suddenly opened, and there stood Max. Fran and Max looked at each other for a few seconds with a myriad of emotions showing in their eyes, but no words passed between them. Fran left and Max came on into the room.

"Sweetheart, you’re looking so much better today. How do you feel?" he said.

"Daddy, what was that?"

"What was what, sweetheart?"

"You and Fran walking by each other without speaking. What’s going on?"

Max took a deep breath. "Margaret, what’s going on between Miss Fine and me is really none of your concern. The only thing you should worry about right now is getting better."

"Daddy, did you know that Fran blames herself for me getting hurt?" Max opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t really have an answer for her. Maggie’s eyes narrowed as she looked accusingly at her father. "Oh, you know, all right. Because you blame her too. If that’s why you two aren’t speaking, then it is my concern. Dad, I am the one to blame. I shouldn’t have gone with Mark. Fran had nothing to do with it."

Max couldn’t let that one go. "Miss Fine had everything to do with it! She’s spent the last five years teaching you to go behind my back and do whatever the hell you wanted! And just look at the result—a near tragedy." Max felt the grip of those painful emotions again in his chest.

"But it wasn’t a tragedy and I’m going to be fine. The real tragedy will be if you let this drive you and Fran apart. Brighton and Gracie and I love her. She’s like a mother to us, and we want her in our lives forever. Please tell her that you don’t blame her for this."

Max just looked at his daughter, wanting to tell her to stay out of his business. Then Maggie spoke more calmly. "I know you’re in love with her, Dad, and she loves you. Please don’t let this come between you."

Max literally flinched at that remark. He took a deep breath. "It doesn’t matter how Miss Fine and I feel about each other. There are more important things to consider here."

Maggie was getting really angry with her father now. "Yeah, like how I’m going to feel knowing that one stupid decision I made kept you two from being happy together. Do you want me to have to live with that for the rest of my life?" Maggie paused for a second to let the full impact of her statement sink in. "Dad, if you don’t find a way to get past this, I will never forgive myself. And I will never forgive you, either."

****************

Max slumped down in the chair behind his desk. Maggie’s words had cut him like a knife. The thought of living the rest of his life without Miss Fine and being alienated from his daughter was too much to bear. He had barely survived Sara’s loss—this one would surely destroy him. He felt a profound emptiness in the pit of his stomach, and he knew it was only a hint of what was to come if things continued the way they were. Deep down, he knew that Maggie had been right in accepting her share of the blame. Now that she was on the road to recovery, he allowed himself to be honest about her role in all of this. A wave of regret washed over him for what he had said to Miss Fine that night at the hospital. He shouldn’t have spoken when he wasn’t thinking straight. He cursed himself for always exploding first and thinking later. It was just that it had felt so much like the night Sara died. He absolutely hated that he had to experience those emotions a second time.

In the days that had passed since the wreck, Max had had time to think more clearly. The real person to blame was Mark—for not paying close enough attention to his driving and being careless behind the wheel. And Maggie certainly played a part in the whole thing. But would Maggie have made that decision to go with Mark if Miss Fine had not always portrayed Max as so strict and unreasonable? Wasn’t she just setting the stage for tragedy? He was still angry about the situation and still believed that she was ultimately the one to blame, but now he was starting to regret what had been lost between them.

An emptiness suddenly flooded over him. The truth was that he missed her—missed her laugh, their little talks, her prancing into his office and perching on the corner of his desk. And he missed their intimate moments—her kisses, the way she ran her fingers through his hair. The thought of never experiencing that again sent him spiraling down into a deep pit of regret. He couldn’t imagine what his life would be without her. In spite of all that had happened, he still loved her with his whole heart and soul. Hopefully, that would be the key to helping them all move beyond the currently impossible situation.

He had to go talk to her. He had been so ready to tell her how much he loved her that night, and then all hell broke loose and he’d never got the chance. Just then, C.C. came breezing in. "Maxwell, tell me what you think of these ticket designs." She laid some proof sheets on the desk in front of him.

"Not now, C.C.," he said as he got up and walked around his desk.

"But we’ve got a deadline!" she called after him, exasperated.

Max didn’t even hear her. He headed upstairs, hoping Fran was there and would be willing to talk even though they hadn’t spoken three civil words to each other since that night.

He knocked on her bedroom door. "Come in," she said.

Max stepped into her room and his heart immediately hit the floor. There were boxes all over and nearly full suitcases on the bed. "Miss Fine? What’s going on?"

"I was just coming down to talk to you. Now that Maggie’s doing better, I’m leaving. I’ll be out of here by tomorrow. It will save you the trouble of firing me."

He strode quickly over to where she stood folding some clothes. "Miss Fine, wait. Let’s not do anything hasty. I’m not going to fire you. You don’t have to leave. We can get through this. Let’s talk about it."

Fran continued folding a sweater without looking up at him. "This is way too serious for talking. I made a horrible mistake, and I almost got Maggie killed. I can’t be the nanny anymore."

Max tried to keep the panic out of his voice. "Fran, listen to me. It wasn’t entirely your fault. I’m sorry I tried to make you feel as though it was that night at the hospital. I was just so angry and upset. I wanted someone to blame and you were just there. I realize now that Maggie shares some of the blame and, of course, that boy is really the most at fault." He took her by the shoulders and turned her around to look directly at him. "You’re not completely to blame, and I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. Please don’t go."

She looked at him with blank eyes, and he could tell that his words were not convincing her. She couldn’t forget the look on his face or the tone in his voice that night at the hospital. No matter what he was telling her now, she knew that he would always blame her for what had happened to Maggie, and she knew he was right in doing so. And even if he could ever forgive her for that night, she had wreaked so much more havoc on the family that could never be forgiven.

"I’ve made my decision. It will be better for everyone if I just leave."

"Fran, please, the children will be devastated if you go. Especially Margaret—she already feels so bad about what she did."

"Maggie will get over it sooner if I’m not around." Her tone was ice.

"Fran, that doesn’t even make any sense. She’ll need your help to get over it. We all need you. You’re a part of us."

She just stood there looking at him with no emotions showing on her face. She was determined not to let her feelings get in the way of her decision. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him. "Please, let’s talk about this." He was desperate.

She just stood there, cold and unyielding, praying that he couldn’t feel her heart pounding in her chest. He kept holding her, praying for a response.

He looked directly into her eyes for some hint of emotion, but they were black stones. He was terrified to voice his next thought. "Fran, what about us? You and me? I thought there was something between us."

She couldn’t look at him. Collecting every ounce of resolve, she stated flatly, "I’m sorry, Mr. Sheffield. All these years—the flirting and kissing. It was all just a game, and I don’t wanna play anymore." She pushed him away from her.

Her words could not have hit him harder had she slammed him with a sledgehammer. He stood there numb as she disappeared into her closet. Finally, he gathered himself enough to leave her room and shut the door silently behind him.

****************

Max reread the first paragraph of the contract in front of him for the third time, but the words still made no sense to him. "Maybe I’ll get C.C. to take care of this," he thought. He had been pushing almost all of his work off on her these days. He couldn’t concentrate. His thoughts over the events of the past few weeks were in such turmoil. He was exhausted from his emotional pendulum swinging back and forth between anguish over Miss Fine’s leaving and anger at her for Maggie’s injuries. On the one hand, he was so desperately in love with her and missed her so much that the ache in his heart just wouldn’t go away. On the other hand, he couldn’t stop himself from blaming her for what had happened to Maggie. He knew that much of the fault lay with Mark for driving irresponsibly and with Maggie for going behind his back and getting into that car. But the truth of the matter was that Maggie had been encouraged by Miss Fine to disobey him. And no matter how Max tried to analyze the situation, it always came down to that.

Just then, Niles came into the office bringing Max’s lunch tray. "Thank you, Niles, but I’m not hungry."

"Sir, you have to be hungry. You didn’t eat any breakfast."

"Please take it away. I don’t feel like eating."

"You can’t still be worried about Miss Margaret. She’s doing so much better. In fact, she’s coming home tomorrow. What else could be bothering you?"

"Look here, old man, you know perfectly well what’s bothering me."

"Could it be that you miss Miss Fine terribly and that you’re sorry you said something horrible to make her leave?"

Max looked at Niles perturbed. He hated it when Niles pointed out the obvious to him. "Yes, I miss her and I’m sorry she left. And I’m sorry for the way I said it, but I’m not sorry for blaming her. Margaret’s getting hurt was Miss Fine’s fault. Oh, quit looking at me like that. I know Margaret and that boy played their parts, but you’ll have to agree that Margaret would never have been in that situation if Miss Fine hadn’t encouraged her to defy me."

"Defy you? You mean do the same thing she’s done hundreds of times before to help Miss Margaret grow into a confidant, independent young woman?"

Max’s eyes narrowed. Niles’ words were starting to make him feel uneasy. "Niles, are you implying that I . . ?" Defiantly, he jumped up and came around his desk. "Well, why couldn’t she just do as I said where Margaret was concerned? Why did she always have to catch me on a technicality or twist things around until I said yes?"

"Probably because you always said no. Maybe if you had been more open to letting Miss Margaret do the things normal teenagers do, she and Miss Fine wouldn’t always have had to look for ways around you."

The impact of Niles’ statement hit Max lit a ton of bricks. For the first time in this whole mess, he realized that if he were going to trace the blame for Maggie’s injuries back to its source, it would have to be him. Thinking back, he couldn’t recall one time that Maggie had asked his permission to do something and he had given it without an argument or some convoluted discussion with her and Miss Fine. Well, there had been that one time when he told Maggie that he was "cool" about her staying out until three in the morning, but he was just trying to prove to Miss Fine that he wasn’t so predictable as she thought. Every other time, her requests had been met with an immediate and emphatic "NO" from him, if she had even bothered to ask, that is.

"Oh, God, Niles, I put all the blame on Miss Fine when I was just as much at fault. I’ve been a bloody idiot." He thought about what a total mess everything was. He and Maggie were barely speaking, Brighton was lashing out at everyone, and poor Gracie hid out in her room for hours at a time. Niles was in a sour mood constantly, and even C.C. didn’t seem herself.

Max realized that the first step to getting some sense of normalcy back into the family was to get Miss Fine to come home. He looked at his butler in desperation.

"Niles, what should I do to get her back?"

Niles looked directly at his boss. "Whatever it takes, sir."

****************

Fran rolled over on her bed and tossed the classified section of the paper onto the floor. It was probably too late to start a job search today anyway. That was the same rationalization she had used every day for the past week. She still wasn’t out of bed, and it was well past noon. What was the use? There was nothing to get up for. The emptiness in her heart since leaving the Sheffield home was so paralyzing that she couldn’t bring herself to even go through the motions of a normal daily routine, whatever normal was.

There was a tentative knock at her bedroom door. "Come in, Ma," said Fran.

Sylvia poked her head in, hoping to see her daughter up and about, but was disappointed to see her in the same state as yesterday and the day before and the day before that. "Sweetheart, ya wanna go to the Chatterbox with me today?"

"No, Ma."

"Come on. Getting a manicure and your hair done will make you feel better."

Fran just looked blankly at her mother. "Nothing will make me feel better." Fran saw Sylvia’s lower lip quiver as she turned to leave the room. Fran knew she should feel sorry that her problems were affecting her mother, but she was so mired down in her own feelings of loss that she couldn’t be concerned for anyone else right now. Except her three kids. She missed being able to see and hug them every day. And she worried about how her absence was affecting them. Did they understand why she had to leave? How much were they missing her? And most importantly, would they ever forgive her?

Fran said her daily prayer of thanks that Maggie was well on the road to recovery. "Well, physically, at least," she thought to herself. But she feared that the emotional damage might never heal. And what about Brighton? Fran hoped that he didn’t hate her, as he had declared the last time when she almost left to marry Danny. And there was Gracie. Fran missed her baby most of all, but she knew deep down that it was good that she had left before she screwed up Grace as much as she had screwed up Maggie.

Then she thought about Mr. Sheffield. The ache in her heart was so severe that it literally doubled her over. She had come to the realization that the chance to be loved by the man of her dreams had passed her by. After what she’d done, he could never love her. After him, she could never love another. She mourned not only for what she had lost, but also for what she now knew she would never have, and the tears suddenly came in a flood.

For the hundredth time since leaving the Sheffields, Fran lay in her bed letting her tears flow while deep sobs racked her body. Mixed in with her feelings of loss was the profound guilt she felt over how she had sabotaged Mr. Sheffield’s role as father. That guilt pressed down on her like a one-ton weight.

She thought about the guilt that Mr. Sheffield had dealt with over Sara’s loss. She had sympathized with him about it, but she had never really understood how disabling it could be. It affected every thought and action, colored every decision. Now she knew how it felt, and she chastised herself for trying to push him into a relationship with her in spite of all his guilt. A relationship she now knew was never meant to be in the first place. She had learned a tough lesson—guilt destroys relationships. And her guilt had destroyed the most important relationships of her life.

Just then, there was another knock at the door. "Not now, Ma," she croaked out.

"Fran? It’s Grace. Can I please come in?"

Shocked, Fran pulled herself into a sitting position and tried to hurriedly wipe away the evidence of her tears. After a few deep breaths, she said, "Come in, angel."

Grace peeked shyly around the door, not sure what to expect. But as soon as she saw Fran, she couldn’t hold back. She flew across the room and into Fran’s arms. They held on for dear life, unable to pull away from each other.

Finally, Fran looked at Gracie and said, "Angel, what are you doing here?"

"I had to come see you. I miss you so much. When are you coming home?" Fran couldn’t bring herself to answer Gracie’s question. "Fran, everything’s a mess. Maggie isn’t speaking to Daddy, and Brighton is acting like a big brat. Niles just mopes around. Daddy’s biting everyone’s head off. And, Fran, I just can’t seem to stop crying. I’ve been to see Dr. Bort every day this week, but it doesn’t help."

"Hi, Fran. Can I come in?" Fran looked up to see Brighton standing expectantly at the door.

"Sure, B." He came and sat on the edge of her bed. Fran could tell that he was trying to be a man, but she could see his chin quivering. She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "What is it, B?"

"Well, I have a date with Megan this weekend, and I wanted your advice on where to take her. I really like her and I want to impress her. What do you think?"

Her voice unsteady, she said, "Well, uh, let’s see . . ."

Just then, Maggie came walking in. Her arm was still in a cast and her forehead was still bruised and bandaged, but at least she was up and moving around. "Fran, can I borrow your purple sweater? I got this new skirt that would look great with it."

Fran realized what the kids were doing, and she got a huge lump in her throat. Before she could control it enough to get a word out, she heard the voice that made her heart practically leap out of her chest. "Children, would you excuse us, please?" There stood Max just inside her bedroom door. Maggie, Brighton, and Grace got up and silently slipped out of the room.

Fran knew why they were all there, and it touched her deeply. "Mr. Sheffield, you play dirty," she whimpered, looking away from him.

"I seem to recall you doing the same to me your first weekend as my nanny."

The memory of that weekend made her wistful. Then a flood of memories of all the times she had shared with those three kids brought the lump back to her throat. She looked back up at him and knew that this conversation was going to take every ounce of strength and determination she could muster.

He spoke gently. "Fran, please come back. We need you. We’re lost without you." He ached to pull her into his arms and hold her. He wanted to cover her with kisses. He wanted to shout his love for her from the rooftops. He wanted her.

"I can’t." It broke her heart to say those words, but there was too much at stake. She had messed things up enough. She couldn’t risk doing any more damage to the three beautiful children she loved so much.

"Then please don’t shut us out of your life completely. Will you at least come see us?"

She had to be careful here. Her brain was screaming, "No!" but her heart was telling her to run into his arms. Her guilt kept her anchored to the bed.

"How about coming to dinner this Sunday?"

Fran felt her determination crumbling. She longed to be a part of their lives again, but the guilt and the fear brought on by the prospect of that closeness sent her into a panic.

"Please?" Max begged. He had never felt so desperate in his life. There was so much riding on her answer.

God, she was torn. Wasn’t a clean break better for everyone? But how could she turn him down when he was standing there pleading so earnestly? What would one evening hurt, really? Maybe it would help smooth over some of the pain and confusion they were all feeling since she’d left. After a long pause, Fran took a huge breath. "All right. Just dinner."

Max felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was grateful for this small step forward. "Thank you. We’ll see you Sunday." He slipped out of her room. Then Fran heard him say something to the children followed by squeals of delight.

Alone again in her room, Fran sat in turmoil. She wanted so desperately to have things back the way they had been, but she was convinced that they never could be. Her guilt would never allow it. She lay there staring up at the ceiling for a long time, looking forward to Sunday, but dreading it at the same time.

Sylvia came in and sat on the edge of Fran’s bed. "Mazel tov, darling."

"Ma, don’t read too much into it. It’s just dinner."

"Yeah, but dinner can lead to a lot of things."

"Forget it, Ma. I can’t go back and be the nanny again. I messed up too bad." Fran took a deep breath. "Oh, Ma, I love those three kids so much. I just hope that someday, they’ll be able to forgive me."

"Sweetheart, they came here today because they miss you. That’s gotta tell you something."

Fran reached out and hugged her mother to her. "Thanks, Ma."

Sylvia turned pensive. "You know, it makes me wonder."

"Wonder about what?"

"What Niles is gonna serve on Sunday."

*****************

As the taxi pulled up in front of the Sheffield mansion that Sunday, Fran looked out the window and thought strongly about telling the driver to turn around and take her back to Queens. Being in that house again with the family she loved so much but wasn’t a part of anymore was just going to be too hard. Before she could say anything, though, the front door opened and Brighton and Gracie came out to the cab. Fran paid the driver as Brighton opened the car door for her. As soon as she stepped out, Gracie said, "Thank you for coming, Fran."

Eager to play the gentleman, Brighton offered her his arm. As she walked up the front steps, she could feel her hands shaking. How was she ever going to get through this?

She stepped inside, and her friend and confidante Niles was there to greet her. "Welcome ho--, I mean, welcome, Miss Fine," he corrected himself. "It’s so good to see you." Fran suddenly realized how much she had missed him.

"Scarecrow!" she said as she reached out her arms, and the two friends embraced.

Maggie was standing at the bottom of the stairs holding back tears. She was afraid to place too much hope on this one visit. Her own guilt over the seemingly simple act that had brought such heartache on the entire family still weighed heavily on her. She walked up and said, "Fran, I’m so glad you’re here." They hugged each other tightly.

Then Max came down the stairs. "Miss Fine," he said, smiling broadly. He fought the urge to take her in his arms and kiss her. Instead, he took both her hands in his for a brief moment. "Why don’t we sit and chat a bit while Niles puts the finishing touches on everything?" They walked over to the living room, and Fran sat down on the couch. Immediately, the three Sheffield children gathered around her, Maggie right next to her and Brighton and Gracie on the floor at each knee. Max admonished them, "Brighton, Gracie, give Miss Fine some space."

"Miss Fine?" thought Fran. "Wasn’t he calling me Fran the other day?" Then she smiled nervously as she put a hand on each of the younger ones’ shoulders. "Oh, it’s all right. We’ve all just missed each other a little bit."

Hovering near the bar cart, Max said, "Miss Fine, can I get you anything to drink?"

Her head was reeling enough from all the emotions coursing through her without adding liquor to the equation. "Just a club soda would be fine."

Fran felt as though she were moving through some surreal play. The setting was familiar, and the characters looked the same, but they were all acting like robots. Thankfully, after just a minute or two of stilted small talk, Niles appeared and announced, "Dinner is served."

They went into the dining room and took their usual spots around the table. Desperate to break the ice, Fran asked Maggie when she thought she would return to classes, and then suddenly, as if a dam had burst, all three children opened up and started babbling about what had been going on in their lives since Fran had left. Soon, it started to feel like old times as the dining room banter became easy and light-hearted. Fran sighed, thinking how wonderful it all felt, and she began to think that she was going to get through the evening without being overwhelmed by any attacks of guilt or any painful reminders that she didn’t belong there anymore.

After dessert, Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie suddenly excused themselves as if on some prearranged cue. Max stood up and said, "Miss Fine, would you care to join me on the terrace for an after-dinner drink?" A rush of apprehension hit her. She took a deep breath and tried to calm down a little, telling herself that she could do this. She could be alone with him and have a conversation without wanting to run into his arms. She had to. For her kids.

As Fran followed Max through his office, she stopped to stare at the corner of his desk where she had often perched for their little talks. Then, she suddenly remembered why she was usually perched there—to manipulate him over something for one of the kids—and she scooted quickly on out to the terrace.

Max poured them both a drink and handed Fran’s to her. "Fran, I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to have you here again. I’ve enjoyed this so much." Max prayed she couldn’t see past his painted smile. Actually, having her there, but only as a guest, was more painful than he had imagined. It made him long for the way things used to be. He wanted so much to wrap her in his arms, hold her close and beg her to stay forever, but he told himself to be grateful just to have her there.

"It does feel good to be here with all of you."

"I hope you’ll consider coming over again. Maybe even on a regular basis."

Fran looked down at the terrace floor. Things were going well. She had managed to get through the evening so far. She was afraid to even attempt to look ahead. "I don’t know. We’ll see."

Max set his drink down and walked over to stand right in front of her. "Fran, there is something important I need to tell you. I don’t want to spoil our pleasant evening, but I need to talk to you about the wreck."

Max saw her stiffen noticeably at the mention of the source of her pain. He spoke gently, "I’m sorry, Fran, but this is really important. I need to apologize to you for putting all the blame on you. After clearing my head, I realize that I was being unfair. If I hadn’t always been so damned resistant to letting Margaret grow up, you wouldn’t have always had to look for ways around me. This time was no different than all those others. Really, the whole blasted mess was my fault. I’m so sorry that I made you feel as though it was yours. I only hope that some day, you’ll be able to forgive me."

Fran just looked at him in shock. She couldn’t believe he was accepting the blame. Her mind was a whirl. Did he really feel responsible, or had the kids put pressure on him to come up with some kind of a ploy to get her back? It didn’t matter, though. She knew it was her fault. She looked away from him shaking her head. "That’s very sweet of you, Mr. Sheffield, but I think we both know the truth."

Max’s heart sank. He truly thought his confession would help ease her guilt. "Yes, we do and the truth is my kids need you. I need you." He waited for a response from her, but none was coming. Fran turned back and studied his eyes. She saw a look of desperate pleading there. Maybe there was some kernel of truth to what he was saying, she thought. Maybe it wasn’t fair or rational to put all the blame on herself. He spoke gently, "You know, at some point, you’re going to have to come to terms with this guilt you’re carrying around, or it will keep you from doing what’s really important."

Max could tell that she was wavering, that he had caused a small crack in her reserve. He seized the opportunity to take another step. "Fran, we would all be so happy if you would come back and be the nanny." He didn’t dare suggest that what would really make him happy was if she would say she loved him and promise to spend the rest of her life with him. At this point, it was too much to hope for. Right now, he had to be satisfied with some kind of promise from her that she wouldn’t disappear from their lives entirely. "Well? What do you say?"

God, she was torn. She desperately wanted her old life back, but she knew that was impossible. Too much had happened. Too much had changed. She was afraid to say no, but terrified of saying yes. "I’ll think about it," was all she could manage.

"Just so you know, the door is always open. Whenever you are ready, just say the word."

All she could do was give him a small smile, and Max suddenly realized how much he had missed that gorgeous smile that made his heart melt. Would they ever get back to a time when he could count on seeing that smile every day and maybe even be the cause of it? For the moment, though, he told himself to be glad that she was here with him and she wasn’t pushing him away or threatening to leave. For now, it was all they had, and it would have to be enough.

*****************

Val took a sip of her tea. "Ya know, Fran, they’re hiring down at the Krispy Kreme. I think I’m gonna apply. Wanna come with me?"

Fran set a plate of cookies down on her mother’s kitchen table. Sylvia had gone to Pauly the butcher’s, giving Fran and Val a chance to talk. "I don’t think so, Val. I know I need a job, but donuts? I’m afraid I’d turn into a cow."

Val picked up a cookie and took a bite. "I think you could stand to put on a few pounds. You haven’t really eaten anything since . . ." Val saw the look of sorrow pass over her best friend’s face. "Sorry, Fran. I shouldn’t have brought it up."

Fran sat down and stirred her tea. "Oh, that’s ok, Val. It’s not like I’ve got anything else to talk about these days. My life is pretty much a big fat zero."

"What are you going to do about a job?"

"I don’t know. I can’t really think of anything I’m good at."

"You’re good at being a nanny." Val watched for Fran’s reaction.

"No, I’m not, Val. I really messed things up bad at the Sheffields. I don’t care what Mr. Sheffield says, I better just stay away from kids altogether."

"What’d he say?"

"He said he and the kids want me back, but there’s no way. I mean, the only thing I have to go by with those kids is the way I was raised here in Queens. And it’s pretty obvious now that just doesn’t work over on Park Avenue. Kids over there need strict rules and somebody to make them follow them. It’s not like over here. The upper class has expectations for their kids. Mr. Sheffield needs to find himself a proper nanny."

"Fran, that is such a load of crap. Those kids need you. They love you and you love them. So what if you messed up a few times?"

"A few times, Val? How about all the time? I almost got Maggie killed with the stuff I taught her!"

"So, if you think you messed up so bad, how come you’re not gonna try and fix it? This isn’t like you, Fran. I’ve never known you to make a mess of something and then walk away from it."

Fran looked disbelieving at her best friend. "What, Val, ya think I can just waltz back over there and fix everything?"

"You could at least give it a shot."

Fran just stared at Val. Sometimes she surprised her with the ideas she came up with. Then Fran began to ponder this new notion. Maybe it wasn’t too late to repair some things between those kids and their father.

"Maybe you’re right, Val. Maybe I could go back and be the nanny for just a little while. Just long enough to teach those kids that they need to do what their father says. It’s probably a little late for Maggie, but there’s still hope for Brighton and Gracie. Maybe I could turn things around a little."

"And maybe you could turn things around with you and Mr. Sheffield too."

Fran waved off Val’s suggestion. "Just forget about that, Val. I already blew that one big time. Besides, if me and Mr. Sheffield could ever get together, I’d want it to be for the rest of our lives. I don’t wanna even think about how bad I would mess the kids up if I had that much time."

"You’re still in love with him, aren’t you?"

"Oh, Val, I never knew I could love somebody so much."

"Do you think he loves you?’

"How could he, Val, after what I did?

"Come on, Fran, you don’t quit loving somebody just because of one mistake. Maybe you could go back and find out."

"It took us five years to get to where we were. I don’t have another five years. The kids are almost grown. If I go back there, it‘ll have to be just long enough to undo some of the damage, and then I‘ll have to get out."

"Fran, you’ll never be able to live in the same house with him and be so in love with him and not do anything about it."

"Hey, I did it for five years. I can do it for another one or two."

****************

Fran smiled to herself as she settled back on the couch in the Sheffield living room. She had come over again for Sunday dinner, and the kids had talked her into staying and watching a movie with them. Maggie had pulled a chair up next to Fran and Brighton was on the floor by the coffee table. Gracie had claimed the spot on the couch right next to her. She felt such contentment, thinking that this was how it should be—so comforting and familiar, surrounded by her kids. She had started to think that maybe it would be possible to recapture at least some of what they’d been before the accident.

A few minutes into the movie, Max came in and joined them in the living room. He took the chair opposite Fran. "Typical," she thought. "Me and Mr. Sheffield on opposite sides."

Max tried to get into the movie, but he was much more interested in watching Fran. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, and he savored the scene of her sitting there surrounded by his children. To him, it was picture-perfect, better than any movie. He watched as Gracie cuddled up to Fran, and he longed to trade places with his youngest. It seemed like ages since he had touched her silky skin, inhaled her scent, tasted her lips. The mere thought of never touching, inhaling, tasting her again drove him to the brink of madness.

Fran glanced around at all of them, thinking about how different things were than they had been only a few short months before. Her eyes came to rest on Mr. Sheffield, and she was surprised to see that he was looking intently at her. Rather than looking away chagrined, he continued to gaze, and for the longest time, neither of them could tear their eyes from each other. The connection between them was palpable.

Fran finally made herself look back at the TV. "Damn," she chastised herself. If she was going to come back as the nanny, she couldn’t let herself get caught in situations like that. She would be there for one important purpose, and nothing more.

Max couldn’t sit still another second. Suddenly, he popped out of his chair. "Who’d like some popcorn?" came out of his mouth. His question was met with four "Me’s!"

"Miss Fine? Would you mind giving me a hand? I’d rather not bother Niles."

She disentangled herself from Gracie and got up to follow him into the kitchen. When they got there, she said, "I’ll get the bowls."

Max said, "I’ll get out the popcorn." For a few minutes, they busied themselves in an uneasy silence.

Needing to dispel the quiet, Fran said, "Well, this feels strangely familiar."

Max replied, "You know, it doesn’t have to feel so strange. Have you thought any more about what we talked about a last week?"

Fran thought to herself, "Well, this is it." She couldn’t postpone the discussion any longer. "Are you kidding? I’ve barely thought about anything else," she confessed.

"Well?"

Fran took a deep breath. She knew what she was about to say would change everything. "I’ll consider coming back as your nanny on one condition."

Max felt his heart leap. Trying to keep his voice even, he said, "Anything. Just name it."

"If I come back, you and I would make decisions together about the kids. We’d discuss it calmly and rationally, and then come to an agreement. No more manipulating, no more twisting things around. It would have to be a team effort."

Max said, "Fran, that’s not really necessary. I trust you to make decisions about the children." He saw the sudden look of panic in her eyes and knew immediately he’d said the wrong thing. "Ok, ok, I’m sorry. Whatever you say. Team effort."

"Team effort," she repeated.

He had to fight to keep from scooping her into his arms and spinning her around. For the first time since Maggie’s accident, he had a reason to smile. Beaming, he said, "Let’s go tell the kids. They’re going to be ecstatic."

Fran and Max carried the popcorn and bowls back into the living room. Max picked up the remote and put the movie on pause. "Children, Miss Fine and I have something important to talk to you about." They all turned and looked expectantly at their father. "Miss Fine has agreed to come back as your nanny." Shrieks of happiness filled the room. All three jumped up and practically knocked Fran off her feet hugging her. "Ok, ok, settle down. There will be one important new policy and you all must agree to follow it. No more playing Miss Fine and me against each other to get your way. She and I are going to work together to decide what’s best for you. Whatever our answer, understand that it comes from both of us equally."

The three kids looked at each other in surprise. This was going to require a whole new way of thinking, but they were all more than willing to do whatever it took to get Fran back into their lives permanently. "Agreed," they all said at once. Then they went back to hugging her.

Just then, Niles came walking in. "Oh, Niles, you’ll be happy to hear that Miss Fine has agreed to return as the nanny."

A huge smile lit up Niles’ face. He walked over to her, gave her a heartfelt hug, and said, "Welcome home, Miss Fine."

*****************

Moving her things back into her room was a lot easier than moving them out since she wasn’t dragging such a heavy heart around with her. Soon, she was all settled in, and things got back to a semi-normal routine. Fran seized every opportunity to give the kids hugs. She had some catching up to do for the time she had been gone.

She also was careful to avoid any situations where she was alone in the same room with Mr. Sheffield. She would always peek in his office to make sure Niles or C.C. was in there before going in to talk to him about anything, and she never hopped up on the corner of his desk anymore. And she had to be careful what she wore. Eliminating tight skirts and short tops seriously cut down on her wardrobe. Then, once the kids were settled in each evening, she stayed in her room, afraid she and Mr. Sheffield might happen upon each other in the living room or kitchen.

She just kept telling herself that this arrangement was best for everyone, and by the end of the week she had almost convinced herself that she could pull it off. Then, the first test presented itself on Friday when Brighton asked if he could go spend the weekend in Atlantic City with some friends. The three of them stood in Max’s office as Brighton waited patiently for a decision. It felt so weird to him to be asking permission from Fran and his dad together instead of his usual strategy of enlisting Fran to figure out a way to get his dad to say yes. But he knew this was how it had to be in order to keep Fran there.

"Brighton, you’ll have to give Miss Fine and me some time to discuss it. We’ll let you know what we decide," said Max.

Brighton left the office. "Well, Miss Fine, what do you think?"

"Uh, I’d rather hear your side first."

"Ok. I think Brighton is too young to be going off to a place like Atlantic City."

Without hesitating, Fran said, "I agree. He shouldn’t go. He’s too young."

Max found this really strange. No argument? No whining? No comments about how unreasonable he was being? "Are you sure that’s how you feel?"

"I’m sure."

"Very well, then." Max pressed the intercom button. "Niles, will you please ask Brighton to come into my office?"

"Yes, sir," Niles replied. A few minutes later, Brighton stood in front of Max’s desk again. He looked back and forth between his father and his nanny, and he could tell by their faces what the answer would be.

"Brighton, Miss Fine and I believe that you’re too young to spend a whole weekend in Atlantic City with your friends."

Brighton was disappointed, but he knew better than to even attempt to complain or argue. This was the way things were going to be now, and if this is what it took to have Fran back in their lives, he was going to have to accept it. "Ok, dad." Brighton turned and walked dejectedly out of his father’s office.

Fran went upstairs and lay down on her bed. She knew she had done the right thing, but she felt terrible disappointing Brighton like that. Maybe she should have suggested that he be allowed to go just for the day rather than the whole weekend. Wouldn’t that have been a reasonable compromise? And really, what was so wrong with him going in the first place? Plenty of other kids his age did that sort of thing. She should have spoken up, and she had started to, but then she began thinking about all the horrible things that might happen to him if he went. He could get into trouble, or get mugged, or, God forbid, get into a car accident. No, it was better if he just stayed home where he would be safe. She prayed that Brighton wasn’t too upset with her for not even trying to plead his case with his dad.

Suddenly, she felt tears stinging her eyes. She really didn’t like herself as this new nanny, and she hated to think what the kids thought of her now. But guilt over what had happened to Maggie mixed with her drive to repair Mr. Sheffield’s relationship with his children dictated all her thinking now. She had to learn to ignore her instincts. The best course from now on, she thought, was following Mr. Sheffield’s lead and taking the safe route.

She heard Brighton out in the hall and jumped up to go talk to him. "B, wait a minute. I need to tell you something." She walked over to where he was standing with his head down and his hands shoved into his pockets. "I’m sorry about Atlantic City. I know you’re disappointed, but I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go."

Brighton looked at Fran and she could see how upset he was. "It’s ok, Fran. I understand. I don’t blame you."

He turned and walked into his room, shutting the door solidly behind him. Fran sighed heavily. She felt bad for Brighton, but she knew this was the way things would have to be if she was going to undo the damage she had done. It was going to be hard, but the kids had to learn to respect their father’s decisions.

The next day, Fran was coming down the back stairs when she overheard Maggie and Brighton in the kitchen. She stopped, just out of view.

"What are you doing moping around here on a Saturday? You’re such a loser," Maggie said.

"Well, all my friends are in Atlantic City where I should be, but Fran and Dad said I couldn’t go."

Maggie spoke more apologetically, "Sorry. I’m sure they’re only doing what they think is best."

"You mean what dad thinks is best."

"Dad said they were going to decide on things together."

"Oh, yeah. Really together. It took them like two seconds. Dad said no and Fran agreed. I’ll be lucky if I get to go anywhere by the time I’m twenty. Thanks a lot, Maggie."

"What?"

"You know this is all your fault. You just had to go out with that Mark guy and ruin everything."

"Shut up, Brighton!"

"You shut up. You know I’m right. Fran’s afraid to stand up to dad, so we’re all stuck in this house. I don’t even know why she bothered coming back." Brighton turned and stomped out the door, shoving it so hard it practically came off its hinges.

Maggie just stood there fighting tears. She knew Brighton was right. The two of them were home more than they were out with their friends these days. Although Fran had returned, she wasn’t the same nanny. Her style, her flair just weren’t there anymore. And it was affecting all of them. They hardly ever smiled anymore, and when was the last time anyone laughed out loud? It was as if all the vitality had been pulled out of the house. Maggie thought it was starting to feel eerily familiar—too much like the time after her mother had died.

And she could tell things were different between Fran and her dad. The two of them were amiable enough around each other, but Maggie could see that the spark between them was absent. Who knew one little seemingly innocuous decision would have such drastic results?

Still standing frozen on the back stairs, Fran’s cheeks were covered with silent tears. She turned and went back up to her room. She sat on her bed, her mind in a whirl. Brighton hadn’t come right out and said he hated her like he did when he was ten, but his words cut just as deeply.

For the next several weeks, the kids hardly even asked anymore. If they knew that what they were wanting was a bit of a stretch, they didn’t even bother because they already knew what the answer would be. Max would say no, and Fran would agree with him. What kind of teamwork was that? Fran was starting to realize that, maybe, coming back wasn’t such a good idea after all.

****************

Fran was on her way down to breakfast when she walked by Maggie’s room and glanced in. The sight of Maggie’s outfit set off an alarm in her head, and she barged right on in.

"Uh, Maggie, aren’t you a little over-dressed for just a school day?"

Maggie was standing in front of her full-length mirror checking herself. "After philosophy class, some of us are going to this new coffee shop. There’s a really cute guy who hangs out there and Whitney said he asked about me. Do I look ok?"

Fran looked over Maggie’s outfit, but her eyes landed on the length of her skirt. It was way too short. "You know, I’m not sure that skirt really goes with that top. How about this one?" She reached into Maggie’s closet and pulled out a skirt that was a good three inches longer. "This color is so much better. That one is a little off."

Maggie looked at the skirt she was wearing. "Fran, you were with me when I bought this outfit. You said the colors were great."

"Yeah, but you know, the lighting in those stores is so bad. This one’s really much better."

Maggie just looked at her perturbed. "Fran, I know what you’re doing. Dad isn’t even home, so you can cool it with the proper nanny routine."

Fran feigned innocence. "This doesn’t have anything to do with your dad," she lied. "I just thought I would give you a little fashion advice." She could tell Maggie wasn’t buying it. She sighed. "Ok, ok, your father would throw a fit if he saw you in that skirt."

Maggie said, "How about if I take the other one with me and change before I come home? That way, dad will never see me in it."

Fran started to say, "Good idea," but caught herself. Before, that would have been a perfect solution, but now she knew she had to stand firm. "Let me put this another way. Your father and I don’t approve of you wearing clothes like that."

"This skirt isn’t any shorter than the ones you used to wear," Maggie protested.

"The key phrase here is ‘used to,’" Fran stated. "You need to change."

Maggie sighed resignedly and took the longer skirt from Fran. "Ok, I’ll change. Sorry I gave you such a hard time."

"That’s ok, sweetie. I know this is a little hard for all of us." As Fran headed on downstairs, she thought to herself, "Not hard. More like impossible."

*****************

One rare evening, Max made it home in time for dinner with the family. He noticed that there didn’t seem to be much to talk about around the dinner table. The truth was that there just wasn’t much going on around the house anymore. Then Maggie asked if she could speak with Max and Fran after dinner. The three of them went into Max’s office.

Fran said, "What’s up, sweetie?"

Maggie realized with the way things had been going lately that this was a long shot. "Well, this Saturday is Whitney’s birthday, and a bunch of us girls are going out to celebrate. Whitney really likes this band that’s playing down at Elmo’s. They play until 1:00, so we probably won’t be home until around 2:00. I know that’s a little later than you usually want me out. But I don’t want to come home by myself, and I don’t want to make everybody else leave early just because of me. Can I stay?"

Max said, "I don’t know, Margaret. That’s pretty late . . ." He looked at Fran and saw a mix of emotions on her face. He had gotten so used to her agreeing with him where the children were concerned that he hadn’t even realized that he had fallen back into his old habit of always saying no. "Uh, Margaret, why don’t you give Miss Fine and me some time to discuss it?"

"Ok," said Maggie, leaving the office.

"Well, Miss Fine. Don’t you agree that Margaret shouldn’t be out so late at a club?"

Fran hesitated. She felt her old instincts tugging at her. Two o’clock wasn’t that much later than Maggie usually got home, and Whitney was a really good friend of hers. Maggie would feel just awful spoiling her birthday plans. What would it hurt just this once? If she spoke up, she told herself it would be ok because she wouldn’t be manipulating or tricking. She would simply be presenting another perspective on the situation. Max looked at her expectantly, and he could tell she was torn. She took a deep breath. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was, "Yes, I agree."

Max called Maggie back into his office and explained that he would be happy to send the limo for her at 12:30 so that the others’ evening wouldn’t be cut short. Maggie just looked at Fran, but Fran had to look away.

Later that day, Fran was in the kitchen making herself some tea. Max had been working in his office since morning, and he had just come into the kitchen to get something cold to drink. When he saw Fran standing there, he paused thoughtfully.

"You know, Miss Fine, I thought for a minute that our discussion this morning about Margaret was going to be more like old times. You know, me saying no—you saying yes. And then you trying to twist things around until I agreed with you." He gave her one of his little teasing smiles.

Fran couldn’t see any humor in the situation. She shook her head. "Don’t worry, Mr. Sheffield. I’m done with manipulating you. Every time I think about my old ways—you know, tricking, I mean, talking you into letting the kids do stuff, I see that scar on Maggie’s forehead and I panic."

Max came to stand right in front of her and looked solemnly into her eyes. "Miss Fine, plastic surgery will take care of that scar, and Margaret’s face will be perfectly beautiful once again."

Fran looked away from him. "Too bad plastic surgery can’t take care of all the other scars."

Max took her by the shoulders and pulled her around until she faced him. He looked directly at her and said, "You have to stop blaming yourself. Remember, I was as much at fault for what happened to Margaret as you. More so, really. Miss Fine, you can’t let your guilt keep you from being yourself and doing what’s important in life. I know what I’m talking about. Remember, I’m the expert on guilt around here."

She just stood there staring at him. His words were lost on her, she was so mesmerized by his green eyes. She hadn’t been this close to him since that night. She recalled the touch of his hand on her back as they danced, the smell of his Aramis, and the feel of his body against hers. God, she loved him so much. This was harder than she ever dreamed it would be.

Fran felt his hands slide from her shoulders to her back as their eyes locked on each other. Max inhaled her scent, and it drew him to her. His head was reeling at the sensation of having her so close, and as his mouth descended upon hers, he felt her arms slide up around his neck. The kiss that started so tentatively quickly became passionate. The feel of her sensuous lips on his nearly brought tears to his eyes, it had been so long. But now here she was in his arms kissing him, and he prayed that it would go on forever.

Suddenly, Fran pulled away from him and turned around bringing her fingers to her mouth. Was she fixing the lipstick smudges or wiping away his kiss? She cleared her throat. "Uh, I’m sorry, Mr. Sheffield. I’m not sure what just happened here, but, uh, it won’t happen again." She turned and made a dash up the back stairs. Max was left staring after her.

Max just stood there in shock. The last time he had held her in his arms, she told him that all the years of kissing and flirting had just been a game to her. But that kiss just now wasn’t a game to him. To Max, it was real. Holding her like that felt so right, so perfect. And he knew he had felt a connection there.

Upstairs, Fran looked at herself in the mirror and wiped away the tears that had escaped down her cheeks. God, it had felt so good being in his arms again. And that kiss! Her heart was still beating so rapidly she was still catching her breath. God, she loved him so much it hurt. But kissing him, holding him sent her into a panic. She couldn’t let it

happen again. She was terrified of what it would lead to.

God, she felt as though she was living in a bizarre world where everything was opposite. She was running from him instead of him running from her. He had held back his love for fear that things wouldn’t work out, and she was doing it because she was terrified that they would. At least they had one thing in common—guilt. However sane or irrational their actions, they could both trace them back to an overpowering, debilitating sense of guilt.

What if things did work out between them? That would mean some kind of future together, and she was absolutely certain that she couldn’t keep up this proper nanny role much longer. And what if they got married and had children? Surely she couldn’t expect to do any better with her own children than she had done with his! No, it was best for all concerned to just keep things the way they were. Mr. Sheffield was the boss, and she was the nanny, and they worked together as a team to raise Maggie, Brighton and Gracie with proper, upper-class values. She felt herself begin to calm down as she wrapped herself in the cocoon of what was safe and risk-free. As long as she did that, she could keep this up for a little longer. Just long enough to set things right, and then she would be out of there.

**************

Max came in the front door after a long day at the theater. Niles was waiting for him. "Good evening, sir."

"Good evening, Niles. I’m sorry I missed dinner. Too many loose ends to tie up at the theater." There were only four more days until opening night, and there was still so much to do.

"That’s all right, sir. I’ll bring a tray to your office."

"Never mind. I grabbed a bite on the way home. I wouldn’t mind a drink, though. Where is everyone?"

"The children are all in their rooms, and Miss Fine is at her mother’s."

"The children all in their rooms? But it’s Friday night. Don’t they have anything better to do?"

"I’m sure there are many things they would rather be doing." Niles turned and headed into the kitchen.

Max walked on into his office. He had started looking through some files when Niles appeared with his scotch. Niles set it down and then just stood there at Max’s desk.

Max took a sip before looking up at Niles. "Well, what is it? Obviously, you have something to say."

"Pardon me for asking, sir, but aren’t you the least bit curious as to why all three children are spending a Friday night alone in their rooms?"

"I would suppose it’s because they didn’t have any better offers."

"And, once again, you’d be supposing wrong."

Max took another drink. "Oh, good God, man, just spill it. Why are they home by themselves on a Friday night?"

"Because they don’t bother to ask to go anywhere. They know the answer will be no."

"See here, Niles, Miss Fine and I decide together what the children may and may not do."

"Oh, right. You say no, and Miss Fine agrees. You know, it’s funny, but I just assumed that when you accepted your share of the blame for Miss Margaret’s accident, you’d do things a little differently."

"Differently? How do you mean?"

"Like maybe saying yes every once in a while to one of their requests. Miss Fine is so afraid something terrible will happen again that she can do nothing more than agree with you. I don’t believe that was the intention when you agreed on a ‘team effort.’"

Max put down his scotch and considered what Niles was telling him. He’d been so busy with his latest play that he hadn’t really thought much about what was happening here at home. But he knew the kids had been hanging around the house too much lately. Hell, even he was bored when he was at home. What had happened to all of the activity, the life, the energy that had once been the Sheffield household? It seemed nobody smiled or laughed anymore. The joie de vivre was gone, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. The person responsible for it had lost it herself. Max ran his hand through his hair. "Things really aren’t going too well around here, are they, Niles?" He thought for a second. "When Miss Fine gets home, please tell her that I’d like to speak with her."

Just then, they heard the front door. "I believe that’s her now, sir," said Niles as he exited the office.

Max sat there trying to think of a way to approach this subject with Miss Fine. He knew he had slipped into his old ways, but it was just so nice to have her agreeing with him instead of always having an argument or some exasperating discussion over everything. But he knew Niles was right. This current arrangement was making the kids miserable, and he wasn’t really pleased with it himself. He missed her fire, her fight, the way she went after what she wanted. It was one of the things that made him fall in love with her in the first place.

Just then, she came through his office door and took her usual spot on the green loveseat.

Trying to look pleasant, Max said, "Hello, Miss Fine. Did you have a nice time at your mother’s?"

Fran gave a bored sigh. "Yeah, I guess. I was just helping her pick out some new curtains for the bathroom. I figured with the kids all just hanging around in their rooms, I wasn’t really needed here."

"You know, that’s the very subject I wanted to discuss with you. I’m afraid the children moping around here all the time is really my fault. I know you and I are supposed to be working on this together, you know, team effort and everything, but I suppose I haven’t been very open to letting them go out and do things. What do you say we work on getting a little more activity and excitement going around here? From now on, I’ll try to be a little more lenient, if you promise to push me on it a little more."

Fran kept her eyes on the floor. She remembered Brighton’s words the day she’d overheard him in the kitchen, and she knew Maggie wasn’t much happier. Only Gracie seemed to be content with her return, probably because at Gracie’s age, she hadn’t started making many undue requests yet. It was time to be honest about the whole situation. She had pretty much accomplished what she’d set out to do. Maggie and Brighton seemed to have learned to accept their father’s decisions without much argument. "Mr. Sheffield, that sounds like a good idea, but you and I both know that it isn’t going to happen. When it comes to being a father, you are who you are. And I don’t know who this nanny is that I’ve been lately." She raised her head and looked directly at him. "Let’s face it, it’s over. Your kids don’t really need a nanny anymore. They’re great kids, and they’re almost grown up now. You’re a good father—." She looked away from him again. "You don’t need me." She couldn’t believe she was saying these words. She felt pieces of her heart breaking away. When she looked back up at him, she knew immediately that he wasn’t going to argue with her about it.

Max felt a lump forming in his throat. He knew she was right. After all that had happened, they could never get back to the way things were before, and the current arrangement was just making them miserable. She’d lost her joy for life. The kids didn’t know her anymore, and obviously she didn’t know herself. He wanted to jump up, run over to her, and pull her into his arms. He wanted to cover her with kisses and tell her that he loved her, that his life was going to be so empty without her. But, she didn’t love him. Not enough, anyway. She had made that clear, and now that they didn’t have the children to connect them, there wasn’t really anything holding them together.

It was just too hard seeing her every day and not being able to show her how much he loved her. At least before this whole mess, they had their intimate moments, but now, knowing all of that was gone was just too painful. "Are you sure that’s how you feel?" She nodded her head, unsure of her voice. He reached over and pressed the intercom button. "Niles, would you ask the children to come to my office, please."

Fran and Max sat in an uncomfortable silence waiting for Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie. They couldn’t look at each other for fear they would see all that they had once had together and all that was now lost. The Sheffield children filed solemnly into their father’s office. They all knew immediately that this was it.

Max tried to clear the lump from his throat. "Children, Miss Fine and I have decided that it’s best for everyone concerned if she. . . " he hesitated. He struggled to even formulate the thought. Finally, he choked out, "If she no longer remains your nanny."

Gracie’s tears began flowing immediately. Maggie stared in disbelief at her father, and Brighton couldn’t take his eyes off the floor. Fran was afraid to look at any of them.

Max had to think of something. The air in that room was so thick, it threatened to suffocate them all. "I have an idea. Why don’t we all go out to a nice dinner tomorrow night. To say thank you to Miss Fine for all she has done for us and to give her a proper farewell. What do you say?" Hearing no response from anyone, Max said, "Well, then, it’s all settled." Maggie, Brighton, and Gracie turned and ran out of the office.

Fran got up to follow them out, but stopped just inside the door. Without turning around, she said, "Thank you, Mr. Sheffield . . . for everything." Then she left.

Max was numb. He grabbed his scotch and downed the rest of it in one gulp. As he sat staring after her, he realized that this time, it was final, and as those deep feelings of loss crept over him and started gnawing away at his insides, he could do nothing more than put his head down on his desk and let his tears flow.

*****************

For the second time in recent months, Fran dragged her suitcases out of the closet. She had to do something constructive to kill the hours before the big dinner that night or she would go insane. She dabbed at the tears that wouldn’t stop pouring and started folding the items from her bureau. There was a hesitant knock on her bedroom door.

"Fran? Can I come in?" It was Maggie. God, Fran really didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now. Her emotions were too raw to be able to form any coherent thoughts. But she was still the nanny, at least for one more day, and one of her kids needed to talk. She wiped her face as best she could. "Come in, sweetie," she said.

Maggie came in and sat down on the edge of the bed. It was obvious that she had been dabbing at her eyes too. "Fran, I don’t understand why you’re leaving. Don’t you love us?"

Fran couldn’t look at her. "Oh, sweetie, I love you all so much. That’s why I have to leave. Besides, when I came back, I didn’t really intend to stay forever. I just wanted to undo some of the damage I did between you and your father. But it’s just too painful—for all of us. I really can’t stay any longer."

Maggie was distraught. "I can’t believe you’re focusing on this one bad thing and not even considering all the good things you did for us. I mean, you came here five years ago and made us all feel like a family again. You made Dad laugh again. Doesn’t all of that mean anything to you? You always taught me to look at the positive. I guess all that stuff about believing in yourself and going after what you want was just a bunch of crap."

Fran stopped folding clothes and came to sit on the bed. "Oh, honey, it wasn’t crap. It’s just that sometimes you gotta realize when you’ve stayed too long at the fair. Besides, just because I’m not gonna be your nanny anymore doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends. We’ll still see each other—as often as you like."

Maggie just looked at her. "What about dad? How can you just walk away from him? It’s so obvious that he’s in love with you."

Fran swallowed hard. "Well, I don’t know about that. I think your dad and I were just kind of a fantasy. The one good thing that came out of all of this mess was that it showed us just how different we are. We come from two different worlds, and when it comes to really important things, like you kids, those worlds just collide. It would never have lasted between us."

"Can you honestly say that you don’t love him?"

There was a long pause while Fran looked at the comforter, the floor, anything but Maggie’s face. She got up and walked back over to her bureau, mindlessly folding whatever she grabbed. "Oh, honey, let me leave here with at least a little of my dignity."

Maggie got up and walked over to the door. She paused before turning the knob. "Fran, I just want to tell you again that I’m sorry. This whole thing was my fault. I’ll never forgive myself for coming between you and dad. I think you two would have been so happy together, but I guess now we’ll never know. I’m really sorry."

Fran turned around to speak, but the door was closing. She wanted to tell Maggie that even though her actions may have started the whole thing, they certainly didn’t cause it. Something like this would have happened sooner or later. Fran’s manipulating and twisting of the truth, her disregard for Mr. Sheffield’s parenting had doomed her from the start. She wished she had known from the beginning what she knew now—her Queen’s Logic should have stayed in Queens and never crossed the bridge to Manhattan.

*****************

Maggie went directly downstairs to her father’s office. Max looked up as she came in.

"Sweetheart, what do you need?"

"Dad, can I talk to you in private?" She eyed C.C.

"Oh, yes, of course. C.C., would you give us a few minutes, please?"

C.C. tossed an irritated look at Maggie and left the office. Maggie came and stood at her father’s desk. "Dad, you know Fran’s upstairs packing."

Max cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yes, I know. Margaret, this is very difficult for all of us. I’m not really sure I can discuss it with you."

"I just don’t understand why you’re not trying harder to make her stay. Don’t you love her?"

Max took a deep breath. "Not that it’s any of your business, Margaret, but, yes, I do love her. But love can be a very complicated thing." He could tell by the look on Maggie’s face that she wasn’t buying his vague explanation. "All right, the truth is that Miss Fine doesn’t return my feelings. So, you can see that I have no right to stand in the way of her decision."

"Dad, I was upstairs talking to her just now, and I came right out and asked her if she could deny being in love with you. She couldn’t answer me. I don’t care what she told you, she loves you, Dad. You’ve got to fight for her."

"Margaret, it isn’t that easy. Miss Fine feels so bad about your accident that she can’t forgive herself, and that’s keeping her from acting on any feelings she might have for me."

"Daddy, I told you that if you didn’t get past that, I would never forgive you. I still mean it."

"I know, sweetheart, and I have gotten past it. I accepted my share of the blame and I forgave her for hers." Max’s voice dropped as he looked down at his hands. "It didn’t make any difference. She can’t get over her guilt for your accident. Guilt is a very powerful thing, Margaret. Believe me, I know what I’m talking about here."

"Dad, Fran waited for five years for you to learn to deal with your guilt over mom. She did that because she loves you, and she believed you were worth the wait. Are you saying that Fran doesn’t deserve the same from you?"

Max looked at his daughter in amazement. Her words made so much sense to him. Miss Fine was definitely worth the wait—worth whatever it took to allow the two of them to be together. Max smiled proudly at his eldest. "Young lady," he said, "when did you become so wise?"

Maggie smiled. "When a certain nanny showed up at our door."

Max sat thinking for a minute after Maggie left his office. Then he pressed the intercom button. "Niles, would you please change our reservations for this evening to the Rainbow Room?"

*****************

"Ma! Open up!" Fran wailed outside her mother’s apartment.

Sylvia threw the door open. "Sweetheart, waddya doin’ standing in the hall screamin?

Fran came through the door with her arms full of boxes and dragging a large suitcase behind her. "I just thought I’d go ahead and bring some stuff over today so there won’t be so much to move tomorrow."

"Just leave it all there for now and come sit down. Ya wanna Mallo-mar?"

"I don’t have much time. I gotta get back and get ready for the big dinner tonight."

"Come sit. You can take a few minutes for your own mother." Fran dropped the boxes and went to sit on the plastic-covered couch. "Sweetheart, you know I don’t like to pry."

Fran rolled her eyes as she picked up a Mallo-mar from the box on the coffee table and started nibbling at it. "But are you sure you’re doing the right thing?"

Fran heaved a deep sigh and turned pensive. "Ma, did you ever feel like you really screwed up big time with me and Nadine?"

"Of course, darling. Every parent feels that way some time. But I didn’t leave and quit being your mother."

"But, Ma, this was a huge mistake. Not only did I almost get Maggie killed, I really messed up her relationship with her father. I messed up with Brighton and Gracie too. I did things wrong from the first day as their nanny. I guess my way just doesn’t work for people of their class."

"Sweetheart, you gotta look at all the good things you did for those kids. Face it, they were basket cases when you started there. And just look at them now. Sure, you mighta made a mistake or two, but every parent knows that you do the best you can with what you know. And you let love take care of the rest."

"I do love them as if they were my own."

"And if they really were your own, you wouldn’t go off and leave just because of a few mistakes."

Fran reached out and pulled her mother in for a hug. "Oh, Ma, you’re so wise."

"Of course I am. Now, waddya planning on ordering tonight?"

*****************

The ride in the limo was uncomfortably silent. No one could think of a thing to say that would make the situation any more bearable.

Max looked over at Fran. Once again, she had blown him away when she appeared at the top of the stairs. Although nothing shined or sparkled on her black cocktail dress, her beautiful body was more than enough to adorn its simple yet elegant lines. Her hair was unusually subdued and, except for the way the ends fell in soft curls, it reminded Max of how it had looked at the Kindervelt Reunion. He had to push away the sad thought that it had been the last time she would take his breath away as she made one of her grand entrances. She looked so beautiful tonight, and he couldn’t take his eyes from her, gathering in every last detail of her gorgeous, dark almond eyes, her hair, her lips that he loved to kiss, in hopes that the memory of it all would be enough to last him the rest of his life.

Fran had asked where they were going, but Max was determined to keep it from her. He knew he was taking a big chance here, but he had chosen the Rainbow Room for their farewell dinner, knowing that it held so many memories, most of them enchanting and one of them devastating. He hated that the place they had both loved so much had been the site of such heartache, and he hoped that one final, lovely evening there together would in some small way make up for that one agonizing experience.

As the limo neared Rockefeller Plaza and Fran realized where they were going, she felt a sense of dread grip her. "Oh, my God," she thought. She looked over at Max, angry at him and terrified at the same time, but he was avoiding her eyes. How could he do this to her? This evening was going to be hard enough without revisiting the place where all their pain had begun.

The limo stopped and they all got out. The memory of that night came flooding back to her, and she tried to block it out. The elevator ride was awkward and quiet, and when they were finally seated at their table, Fran realized that she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking.

When the waiter asked for her order, Fran couldn’t find her voice. Max ordered her the lobster, and although it was exquisite, she barely touched it. When it came time for dessert, she couldn’t bring herself to even consider the cheesecake.

Soon after they finished eating, they all looked at each other uneasily. The dinner conversation had been stilted at best, and now that there was no food to occupy them, no one could think of a thing to fill the void. As poorly as Max had feared the evening might go, this was worse.

Finally, Niles broke the silence. "If I may, sir, I’d like to present Miss Fine with a small token of my regard for her friendship over the past five years."

"By all means, old man," said Max thankfully. Niles took out a small, flat box with a yellow ribbon and handed it to Fran.

When she opened it, she let out a long, "Aw." It was a miniature lithograph of Dorothy and the Scarecrow. "Oh, Niles, it’s very sweet. Thank you." She looked at him, and an unspoken understanding passed between them.

Maggie took a small envelope out of her evening bag and handed it to Fran. "I know you’re not our nanny anymore, but you said we could still see each other, right?"

"Sure, sweetie. What’s this?" she asked holding up the envelope.

"It’s an invitation to my sorority’s mother-daughter tea next week. Would you go with me?"

Fran felt tears well up in her eyes. "Oh, Maggie, I’d be honored." She reached over and squeezed Maggie’s hand. Max looked across at his oldest child and admired her strength. She had lost one mother, and she would not give Fran up easily.

Brighton said, "Well, I guess it’s my turn." He handed Fran a large box beautifully wrapped in silver paper. Inside was a photo collage in a lovely frame. "I just put together some pictures that kinda meant a lot to me. See? There’s you and me at the canasta tournament, and at the science fair—oh, and remember when you made me take Brooke to the school dance?" he said pointing to the picture of him with his first date.

"Brighton, this is so sweet. Thank you so much." As she looked at each of the photos, she couldn’t help but think how Brighton had matured from the unruly ten-year-old to the bright, likeable young man who now sat next to her. Maybe she could take just a little of the credit for that. The tears that had been filling her eyes finally spilled over, and Max reached into his pocket and handed her his handkerchief.

As Fran dabbed at her tears, Gracie piped up. "I wrote you a poem, Fran."

Brighton said, "Does it start out, ‘F is for the fun we have together’?"

"Shut up, Brighton!" said Maggie and Gracie simultaneously. Then they all broke out in laughter. It was the first light moment of the evening, and they had needed it desperately.

Gracie took out a piece of paper and unfolded it. "Do you want me to read it aloud?"

"Sure, angel," said Fran. In a clear, sure voice, Grace read:

They all looked around at each other, too overcome to speak. Gracie’s poem had crystallized the emotions they had been feeling all evening as they struggled to say good-bye to the one who had meant so much to them. Fran had been a mother to those three, and it was her love for them that they would remember the most.

As Gracie reached across the table to hand her the poem, Fran couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for how her youngest had grown from a withdrawn, introverted child to the confident, outgoing young lady she was today.

Finally, Fran spoke, barely above a whisper, "Thank you all so much. I don’t know what to say. Excuse me." She left the table and headed for the ladies’ room. She had drenched Mr. Sheffield’s handkerchief, and if she was going to make it through the rest of the evening, she had to pull herself together.

While they were waiting for Fran to return, Gracie looked at her dad curiously. "Daddy, didn’t you get Fran a present?"

Max cleared his throat nervously. "If it’s all right, I think I’ll wait a bit to give Miss Fine her gift."

A few minutes later, Fran rejoined them, her make-up repaired but her eyes still damp. She smiled and looked lovingly at each of them. "This has been a very special evening. Thank you, everyone."

There followed an uncomfortable silence as none of them was sure just what to do or say next. Just then, the band began playing, and Max seized the opportunity. He leaned over to Fran. "You know, Miss Fine, the last time we were here, we didn’t get to finish our dance. Shall we?"

Fran didn’t know what to say. She had barely managed to get her emotions under some semblance of control from the gifts that had touched her heart so, and she didn’t think she could handle any more. It would be too difficult to be so close to him, to feel his arms around her. She sat glued to her chair, just looking at him through watery eyes.

Max sensed her reluctance, but he had to speak with her alone, just the two of them. He took her hand tenderly and felt her trembling. "Come on, Miss Fine. One last dance for old time’s sake?" He stood up and brought her up with him.

As they reached the middle of the dance floor, Max had to fight the urge to wrap her in his arms and draw her close. He placed his hand gently at her waist as she rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. They began moving to the music nearly at arm’s length.

Fran kept her eyes down. She knew if she looked into his gorgeous green eyes, she would never be able to finish the dance. She felt his hand inch almost imperceptibly around her waist, pulling her just a bit closer.

"Fran, please look at me. I need to tell you some things."

She wavered for several seconds before slowly bringing her eyes up and locking onto his. He brought his hand up to her face and gently brushed away the lone tear that still clung to her cheek. "I didn’t put my sentiments into a poem, but there are several very important things I want you to know before you leave. First of all, I understand this guilt thing—believe me, I know how it can take hold and control you. So I understand why you must go, and I’m not going to try to change your mind. I just want to make sure you understand how very grateful I am that you came into our lives and how much I appreciate the all the love you gave my children. I can’t even imagine what our lives would be like if you hadn’t come knocking on our door five years ago. I owe you so much."

Fran swallowed, trying to clear the lump in her throat. "Believe me, it was my pleasure. It’s been the best five years of my life." She paused before continuing. "But what I did to Maggie was unforgivable."

"What happened to Margaret was terrible, but it wasn’t unforgivable. I’ve already forgiven you for it. When are you going to forgive yourself?"

"Oh, Mr. Sheffield, it wasn’t just the accident. All these years, I gave her the wrong ideas, I set a bad example for her, I . . ." she dropped her eyes down again. "I hurt her relationship with you."

He gently reached down and placed his finger under her chin, bringing her eyes back up to meet his. "I didn’t have any kind of a relationship with her when you first arrived. And just look at us now. I mean, she did wear the "Daddy’s Little Girl" sweatshirt I bought her." There was a hint of teasing in his voice.

Fran couldn’t resist returning him the slightest of smiles. She noticed that his arm had completely encircled her waist. Her hand lightly touched the back of his neck now, her fingers gently caressing strands of his thick, black waves. They danced only inches apart. "I mean, just look at her," Max said. Fran glanced over at Maggie, who was watching them wistfully. "She’s a beautiful, intelligent, self-confident young woman. All three of my children have turned out to be very special. Fran, you are the reason they turned out that way. You yourself said they are great kids. And I know that’s because of the ideas you gave them, the example you set for them, but mostly because of the way you loved them with all your heart and all your soul. For that, I’ll be forever indebted to you."

She smiled her acceptance of his gratitude. Maybe she hadn’t done such a bad job with those kids after all, she thought to herself. Then she got a faraway look in her eye. "What are you thinking?" Max asked.

"Oh, I was just remembering something my mother said about raising children. She told me, ‘You do the best you can with what you know, and you let love take care of the rest.’"

"You know, your mother is a very wise woman. You should pay attention to what she tells you."

"I know." She looked over again at her three kids. "And I do love them so very much."

"And they love you." Max took a deep breath. He knew this was the moment to lay his heart on the line. "And so do I."

She looked at him incredulous. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. "Wha?" she stammered.

"Fran, I love you," he repeated, gazing deeply into her eyes. "I have for a very long time, and I always will. Fran realized that he was now holding her tightly against him, their lips nearly touching.

Her head was reeling and her heart was pounding. She couldn’t believe it! He had finally said the words she had dreamed of hearing for so long. And the way he was looking at her now told her that he meant it and he would never, ever take it back again.

"You helped me with my guilt." He begged, "Please let me help you with yours. We’ll work on it together—for as long as it takes."

Through the whirl of emotions, her heart spoke clearly to her. She had done the best she could with those kids, and she had more than enough love to take care of whatever the rest might be. And now she knew that he loved her too. He would help her deal with her guilt. It would be a long journey, but one they would take together.

She couldn’t fight it any longer. She loved him too much. She loved her kids too much.

There was something she had to clear up. She looked at him with an intensity he’d never seen before. "Mr. Sheffield, do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me one more time?"

"Forgive you for what?"

"I told you a terrible lie."

A hint of hope in his voice, he said, "I’ll forgive you only if you say that the lie was telling me everything between us had just been a game."

She bestowed on him one of those smiles that he loved so much, and Max’s heart began to race. "I guess I’m forgiven then," she said.

He crushed her to him and seized her mouth with a passion that matched the rush of emotions flooding his heart. Somewhere in the background, they could hear cheering and applause, but there was no way they could stop. Finally, they looked over at Maggie, Brighton, Gracie and Niles, who were beaming and high-fiving each other.

The song ended, and Fran started to turn and go to her kids, but Max tightened his embrace and wouldn’t let her go.

"Mr. Sheffield, the music has stopped."

"Uh-uh. I’m not letting you go until I hear you say it."

She brought his forehead down until it touched hers. "Maxwell Sheffield, I love you." Then she kissed him so feverishly it made his head spin.

They finally broke their kiss, but he kept her tight in his grasp. After recovering his breath, he said, "One more thing. Tell me you will never leave me again."

Her voice choking with sincerity, she vowed, "I will never leave you again. I’m all yours, forever."

With that, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a ruby-encrusted heart pendant. As he put it around her neck, he said, "And this is my heart. It’s all yours, forever."

The band struck up "Evergreen," and Fran and Max held each other in a tight embrace as they began swaying to the music. Fran looked at him and saw in his eyes all the love she had always dreamed of seeing there. Max looked at her and saw in her eyes his love reflected tenfold. She rested her temple against his cheek and relished the feeling of being in his arms. She had been right—things would never be the way they were before, and she thanked God for that.

She lifted her head and with a coy little look on her face, said, "Uh, Mr. Sheffield, when we get home, do you think we might work on that team effort thing?"

His smile made it clear that her suggestion was not lost on him. "Mmm—most definitely, Miss Fine. And this time, I promise I won’t say no."

"And you know me," she whispered seductively. "I always say yes."

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